Heartbeat
by Bonkersfogel
Summary: A young Elf hears a legend of a fourth dragon egg. No spoilers here, read it yourself XD
1. Chapter 1

Eris looked anxiously over her shoulder, hoping that one of her friends was coming to save her. But Laval and Epyphanises seemed to be in an even worse position. They were just hanging there in the webs, completely stiff, staring ahead with their mouths open. A steady stream of drool flowed out of Laval's snout. Their eyes were completely white and their limbs twitched occasionally.

"What are you looking at? They are out of the equation!" Spooler assured her, an evil grin spreading across his face as he clicked his mandibles excitedly.

The eagle princess' memories of what happened next were blurred by pain and hopelessness. She did not remember exactly what happened, but she could recall a mental snapshot of the spider standing over her, using his clawed arms to cut her flight feathers, rendering her flightless. This was not painful, but it did take months to heal.

When she awoke, she noticed that patches of her feathers had been pulled out, and she was covered in wounds.

Spooler seemed slightly more satisfied with the story, but he was not yet fully convinced.

"I will keep you here, until you reveal to usss the true reassson of your visssit." He hissed, and then added with a smirk:

"Pleassse, enjoy your ssstay…"

Eris felt very weak and, as much as she tried, could not remain awake. She fell into a state of deep sleep, hoping, like the bears often did, that when she awoke the world would be a better place.

The croc army had encircled Lagravis and his lion warriors. The lion king tried to remain calm as he assessed the situation.

The enemy had three tanks, Cragger's command boat and about twenty warriors.

The lions had three men, including Lagravis. Their Chi reserves had run out and they were all but defenceless.

Just when he had lost all hope, he spotted a flock of what seemed to be ravens approaching from the south. They seemed to be prepared for combat and, surprisingly, opened fire on the crocs! Lagravis was startled, but he kept fighting. Razar, the leader of the REF (Raven Expeditionary Force), landed beside him and handed him a rope.

"Looks like we came just in time, yes?"

The lions climbed up the rope and onto one of the raven's Warbirds. A troop of ravens provided cover fire as the defenders of the temple were lifted to safety.

Eventually, after what seemed like hours of fighting, the crocs and wolves were forced to retreat, exposing the true extent of the destruction. Wrecked vehicles were scattered throughout the field, causing huge plumes of smoke to scar the skies. The casualties on both sides were huge.

Eagles had just arrived on the scene and were carrying wounded warriors of all tribes back to their hospitals.

The Warbird tasked with ferrying the lions to safety landed next to a horrified Eagle king dude.

"Lagravis, what happened here?" he asked in shock.

Lagravis looked at him sternly.

"The crocs and wolves attacked. We could really have used you." He growled.

"I'm sorry but we could not fly. There was a great storm around the spire. We barely heard your call at all. It seems you came out on top?" the eagle leader apologized.

"We would surely have perished if it were not for the ravens. Razar, what made you chose our side? You endangered your warriors to help us."

Razar searched his brain for the right words.  
"Well, Lagravis. A good friend has taught me what it means to be loyal. He made me realise that without friendship, there is only chaos, yes?"

Lagravis was practically wiped off his feet. He was left quite speechless by these humble words, originating from a raven's beak.

"But- what- how?" he whispered in confusion. Then he recollected himself.

"We are all grateful that people still understand the value of friendship. Tell me, who is this 'good friend'? I should like to have a word with them."

The raven prince replied casually:

"Oh, his name is Laval, my friend. I believe you've heard of him, yes?"

Lagravis puffed out his chest. He felt proud to be Laval's father, but he was still very puzzled by the raven's actions.

"Now, to discuss out payment?" Razar continued.

Lagravis roared with laughter. That was more like it.

They walked, or in Lagravis' case limped, into the temple, to discuss what just happened and what they should do to prevent it happening again.

Epyphanises slowly opened his eyes. Eagle eyes were good, but they did not adjust quickly to changes in light levels, so it seemed very dark. He blinked a few times, then tried to rub his eyes, but his arms wouldn't move.

"What the?" he groaned, looking down.

He shrieked, a little more high pitched than he would have liked. He was trapped in a humongous cobweb. He was not scared especially of spiders, but it was still the creepiest thing that had ever happened to him.

Well, except for that time when- anyway, I digress.

His breathing intensified, and he tried to free himself from the sticky trap, but the more he struggled the more he got caught in the web.

The half-breed struggled to remain calm. He was able to see again in the light given off my Eris' chi, so he looked around. Laval and Eris were also trapped in similar cobwebs and there appeared to be nobody else in the cave. Laval seemed completely zoned out, and Eris was hanging limply, her head bowed forwards. At closer inspection, the once-proud eagle was covered in cuts and bruises. Several large batches of her feathers had been plucked out, and her wings had been clipped. Eris looked very weak, and she seemed to be in a lot of pain, but she also appeared to be asleep or, at least, unconscious. He could do nothing for now but wait for destiny to take its cause.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter II: Companionship

Werlyn rarely talked to anyone besides the guards of Du Weldenvarden, so when he spotted a caravan of horses heading directly for him, he smiled in anticipation.

A small group seven of men, from the south judging by their skin's dark hue, led as many horses towards the mighty elf-forest of Du Weldenvarden. Each horse was burdened with huge saddlebags, bulging nearly to the point of overflowing with gold, jewels and other riches. As such, the men were heavily armed and armored, carrying huge, curved blades by their sides and round, ornate shields in their hands. The man leading the caravan wore a crest on his head, which was a foot tall and appeared to be made of gold. He wielded in his left hand a banner, which bore a green flag with a golden crown and sword. The procession was still a day's ride from the forest and the late hours of the day were upon them, so the leader raised his fist as a signal. The others stopped, weary from the weeks they had been on the road. Dismounting, the men untied the saddlebags to let their steeds rest, placing their goods in a heap in the center of their camp. They set up their tents in a circle around the wares and tied a horse in front of each tent. The men lit a campfire near the middle of their circle, next to a pile of gold, and sat down, chattering excitedly in a strange language, unstopping barrels of mead and roasting a stag on a spit over their campfire.

In a nearby bush, Werlyn's mouth started to water. It had been weeks since he had a decent meal, besides a few rabbits and roots. Also he longed for some company, which surprised him because he usually liked to keep to himself. So it was that, out of desire for company or maybe just sheer boredom, he decided to approach the traders.

The elf stepped into the circle of firelight, his hand in the pommel of his shortsword, but not aggressively.

As soon as they saw him,

The men jumped to their feet, fumbling for their weapons. Werlyn was not surprised by their alarm. He was sure the men had been attacked by enough bandits to always be on their guard. The elf lifted his hand off his pommel and twisted it onto his sternum in the traditional elf greeting.

"Atra estetní ono thelduin" he said, showing his respect for them by speaking first. The men seemed to relax slightly, but they kept their weapons close.

"And may th'stars watch over ye." the captain retaliated, also twisting his hand over his sternum.

"Good evening, master elf. Please understand tha' I don't speak yer language as well as I should. We are naugh' bu' simple traders on our way to Sílthrim, hopin' to sell our wares to the people there. Perhaps you would like ta take a look-see. Who knows? Mayhap ye'll find a little somethin'?"

Werlyn gave an amused chuckle.

"My sincere apologies, friend. I'm afraid I've no money to speak of on me. I lead a simple enough life and I am content without currency. I'm sure that you will find a better bargain in the people of Sílthrim."

Thankfully, the tradesman did not seem hurt, judging by his face.

"Right ye are, lad. Is there anything else we can do ya for?" his tone of voice was direct, but not impolite.

"Actually, I was rather hoping to be able to join in your festivities tonight? I hear that you travelers can weave

many a good tale. And while my purse may not be bulging enough for gold or jewels, I'm sure it will suffice. If it pleases you, I could swear in the ancient language that I mean you no harm, though I'd rather you trust me."

The men murmured amongst themselves for a while in an alien language, then the captain bade him to a spot near the fire, where a man was slowly turning the spit, the smell of venison filling the air.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter III: Purpose

A man was summoned to sit next to Werlyn. He was shorter than most, his skin as dark as charcoal, and a single strain of hair grew from atop his otherwise shiny, bald head. The man introduced himself as Kasnif, the storyteller of the company.

"Everyone, come! Come! I will tell the story of the fourth egg! It is a particular favorite of mine." Kasnif proudly proclaimed.

As the men rushed to the campfire, one of them leaned over and whispered in Werlyn's ear, but loud enough so that all could hear, the stench of mead heavy was on his breath:

"It's the only one he knows"

The myth Kasnif told spoke of a fourth dragon egg, A brilliant green egg with red veins flowing through it, which had once been hidden deep in Ellesméra. It told of how, in the foreword's attack, the egg was taken from Ellesméra, along with other spoils of the war.

"...But! The talons of one of the cursed dragons slipped! Or so it is said. And the egg fell out of its grasp! They say it still rests somewhere in these very plains. Why, thinking about it, it can't be far from here! The forsworn pillaged Sílthrim after Ellesméra, so they would have passed this point on their return journey! Too bad we haven't time to look for it..." Kasnif concluded, his gaze wandering across the dark planes.

To his surprise, Werlyn enjoyed the story very much, even though it described the battle in which both his parents died. He desperately wanted to find the dragon egg, if indeed it excised. Not because, he thought, it would hatch for him but because he hoped it would restore his relationship with the elves of Ellesméra and some of the honor he had lost when he ran away.

Suddenly, a blast of confidence rushed over him.

'I spent my entire life in these plains, but most of that was further north. These southeastern regions are fairly new to me.' He thought to himself.

"I will look for this egg. And, if indeed it exists, I will return it to Ellesméra."

He declared, his chest swelling with pride.

Their festivities lasted late into the night, but eventually the men bad to rest for the long journey that was still ahead of them, so Werlyn bid them farewell and prepared his own bedroll a little while away.

As usual, his dreams where haunted by the battle of Ellesméra, but this time a string of hope was laced deep within the sadness and anger. It was a faint string, but nevertheless it was there, for in his dream he saw, as clear as melt water in spring, a dragon's foot, heavily laden with spoils and riches, among them the green egg which Kasnif told of. Suddenly, the slippery, smooth stone-like object slid from the dragon's grasp, falling downward. It hit the ground with a solid thump and started rolling downhill, coming to rest in a small stream where it rocked from side to side for a while, as if searching for a suitable resting place.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter IV: Spotlight

Werlyn knew the stream well enough. It was known locally as 'Wingwrest stream'. He had bathed and washed his clothes in it many times, albeit further north and west. He decided that he might as well begin his search there, as it was as good a place as any. The elf packed up his bedroll and prepared a light meal consisting of various root vegetables. After he finished, he made his way up a slight incline, in the direction of Du Weldenvarden and Wingwrest stream, which was about a day's walk away. Werlyn waded through tall grass, traced his way gently through marshland and ducked and weaved through small patches of woodland. When dusk was upon him, he set up his camp once more and slept, knowing that he could reach the stream early in the morning to begin his search.

Once more he dreamed of the egg. He memorized the countryside around where it appeared to have fallen, although he realized that it might have just been a dream, not a vision. The stream was fast flowing, trees lined its edge, but they were scarce. A small, rocky outcrop, roughly the size of a man stood next to the stream, and the water flowed off a minuscule waterfall, gurgling and sputtering.

When he awoke, the ranger looked up and a smile spread across his face. He had spotted the same, rocky outcrop that he had dreamed about, not three hundred feet northwest. He hurried to pack up his equipment, deciding to skip breakfast. As fast as his legs would carry him, Werlyn raced toward the stone. The trees that he had dreamed of had long fallen, but the currents and tiny waterfall were unmistakable. He placed his backpack on the bare stone and began his search. To his dismay,

When evening struck, he had still not found even the hint of an egg. Disappointedly, he sank into a shallow sleep, accompanied by the babbling and popping if the brook.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter V: Discovery

For six days Werlyn searched the stream, but to no avail. The weather had been horrible and he had not even found clues as to where the egg had gone, if indeed it excised. Frustrated, he crossed his legs and sat by the rushing water, wandering what to do next. He thought that maybe the egg had been covered up, either by rocks or algae, but he dismissed that hypothesis as he had not only been searching with his eyes, but with his mind and he would still have sensed the dragon's thoughts. He threw a thumb-sized pebble into the currents and watched as the ripples were distorted and swept away.

The pebble started rolling downstream.

Suddenly, an idea placed itself into his head. It seemed so obvious now that he cursed himself for having been so stupid. Over the near century that the egg had been, supposedly, resting in 'Wingwrest', it was sure to have been carried downstream at least a mile!

Excited by the chance of success, Werlyn packed up his camp and started hiking south, following the brook. The sound of the bubbling water calmed his senses and the smell of sweet spring rain filled the air. In the distance, over green and luscious fields of knee-high grass, a rainbow arced across the sky as if combining the world with the cloud-filled heavens above.

He had followed the stream for about a mile when suddenly a brilliant flash of grass green light left him blinded for a few seconds. He blinked and rubbed his eyes, cursing to himself. When he regained his vision, his heart stopped. His mouth involuntarily flapped open, as if moved by an invisible force. He froze. In the middle of a deep, smooth zone of the stream, half obscured by rubble and rocks,

Sat the egg.

Werlyn immediately dumped his backpack on the ground. He rolled up his sleeves and trousers and placed one foot cautiously in the water. Instantly, he recoiled for it was colder than a mountaintop in winter. A determined expression crossed his face, replacing all his other emotions. He placed his foot once again into the water. Then the other. He winced, but carried on regardless. The elf dug his fingers into the pebbles on either side of the egg and pulled it free. It was lighter than it should be. He made his way gently back, doing his best not to trip and fall. When he reached the edge of the stream, he placed the egg on the ground and dried his hands and feet. It would not do to get frostbite in the unforgiving winds of the planes. Only then, he took the time to properly examine the egg. Picking it up with his right hand, he ran an index finger over its smooth, emerald-like surface. It was around seven inches long, the size of a large potato, and curiously oval in shape. Ruby-red veins covered its shell, like streaks of blood on a giant leaf. Gently, he reached out with his mind, and touched that of the hatchling. He felt a wave of excitement, even delight. But above it all sat an aura of impatience.

'Don't worry little Bjartskular; we'll be in Ellesméra in less than two weeks. You're sure to find a rider there.'

To Werlyn's surprise, the hatchling seemed amused by his words...


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter VI: Return

The next day, as usual, the elf packed up his bedroll and supplies. But unlike the countless days before, he carefully wrapped the bedroll around the grass-green egg. When it seemed warm and comfortable, Werlyn placed it gingerly into his rucksack. Then, he took up his walking stick and set a course for the elven capital of Ellesméra.

Roughly a week later, he reached the edge of du Weldenvarden. He had purposefully aimed to enter the forest via a gate, the guards of which he knew personally. They were a tall elf with unusually long ears who wielded a glaive and a relatively young woman of medium statue who preferred ranged combat. Werlyn had spent much time with them in the past, laughing and playing games. They understood each other well, for life as a guard, like life on the planes, had a tendency to grow dull and tasteless.

Upon approaching, Werlyn called their names and they waved to him.

After greeting each other with all possible formalities, Werlyn spoke to the man with the glaive:

"Old friend, I must ask for right of passage. I bring urgent news and a secret, "he eyed the woman" very secret, delivery for the queen herself. Will you please not bar my way?"

The man began to spoke but the woman cut him off.

"Werlyn, wanderer of the planes. It is a great pleasure to see you alive. The planes are dangerous, even at the best of times. Nevertheless, I can't help thinking... you have not entered our forests since... "She gestured with her hands, trying to find the best words to describe her meaning" well, since before my day. So despite the need for secrecy, I must ask what it is that you carry."

Werlyn looked at her pleadingly.

"Very well, I understand. Surely, you have heard of the legend of the Fourth egg?"

"Of course. It is a popular story. But I do not see how it relates to your cause."

"We thought it was a legend. It was not." Werlyn said, lowering his voice, despite the obvious lack of onlookers.

"I carry with me the very egg the legend speaks of. You must tell nobody, not even your families."

The tall elf dropped his glaive in surprise, and the young woman's jaw dropped open.

"May- may we see it?" she stuttered, her hand reaching for Werlyn's backpack. Werlyn stopped her hand with his own.

"I'm afraid it is too risky. We do not know who may be watching. Now, will you let me pass?"

The guards agreed to let him pass, and the ranger hurried northwards towards the beautiful and elusive Ellesméra.


End file.
